Are there any old choristers around that might have learned, and even better remembered, more of the lyrics to a take-off sung to the tune of "Silver Threads Among the Gold"? The only parts I remember go like this:

While the organ peeled potatoes,Lard was rendered by the choir.

etc.

etc.

ending with:

"...the preacher's head resembles heaven,There will be no parting there.

Twas midnight on the ocean Not a streetcar was in sight The captain climbed the telephone pole And it rained all day that night. Twas a summer's day that winter And the snow was raining fast And the barefoot boy with his shoes on Stood there....Sitting in the grass. While the organ peeled potatoes Lard was rendered by the choir And when the sexton wrang the dihrag Someone set the church on fire. Holy Smoke," the preacher shouted In his haste he lost his hair His bald head resembled heaven For there was no parting there.

It was midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight; While the sun was shining brightly, for it had rained all the night. 'Twas a summer's day in Winter and the rain was snowing fast, As the barefoot girl with shoes on stood there sitting in the grass.

It was evening and the sunrise was just setting in the west; And the fishes in the treetops were all cuddled in their nests. As the wind was blowing bubbles, lightning shot from left to right; Everything that you could see had been hidden out of sight.

My Dad was not too musical and he had little interest in poetry, but this thing was so dumb, he just loved it. Anytime the word poetry came up, he'd recite this one as though it were some great classic. He knew two poems, this one, and for reasons known only to him, "The Face on the Barroom Floor."

As a kid, this type of thing was one helluva an embarassment when you're an A student and your friends are staring at your Dad. Now, I embarass my own kids with the same silliness and wish the Ol' Man was here to enjoy what his son finally learned.

At the boarding house I stayed in Everything was growing old Silver threads among the butter And the cheese was green with mould When the dog died we had sausages When the cat died catnip tea When the landlord died I left there Rissoles were too much for me

I learned this as the BAREFOOT BOY WITH BOOTS ON--one of my grandfather's favorite songs.

The night was dark and cloudy. The moon was shining bright. The sun was snowing madly as it rained all day that night. Lightning struck the cowshed and the cows all chewed their cud. The moonlight set the prairie on fire in the middle of the woods.

The barefoot boy with boots on came shuffling down the street. His pants were full of pockets and his shoes were full of feet. He was born when he was a baby, his grandma's pride and joy. His only brother was a girl and his sister was a boy.

My mother always sang the line this way: "Lost his head, and then his hair Now his head resembles.... etc." this is still one of her favorites, along with the parody of "After the Ball" Blessings, Barbara

(Another bootleg from John in Kansas - on LiK's connection). The lyric from Stewart is very close to what someone wrote in my mother's high school autograph book - Haven KS class of 1934, so it has apparently been around for a while. The similarity to other inscriptions there suggest that it may have been commonly recited or sung. Some of the other similar ones appeared on old Edison (cylinder) recordings that my grandpa still had when I was a gradeschool kid. The recordings appeared to come mostly from about the T Roosevelt era.

It was springtime in the Rockies,and the snow was raining fast,When a barefoot man with clogs onCame slowly whizzing past.He turned a straight crooked corner,And saw a dead donkey die;He pulled out his pistol to stab it,And the donkey spat in his eye!

It may have come from the two Leslies (Lesie Sarony and ?? --Help, Roger!) in the thirties, who also did a nonsense alphabet: "A is for 'orses, b for mutton, c for yourself, ..." (say it out loud!)

She'd usually follow it up with something I think must have come from Robb Wilton:

A man said to me "can you dance?"I said "dance?"He said "yes"I said "who?"He said "you!"I said "me?"He said "yes!"I said "no";he said "oh".

Say it rapidly for the best effect. I'd love to know the rest of it, if anyone knows it.

And yet another bit of poetry (St. Louis, Mo, 1970's was when I heard it first.)

One bright day, in the middle of the night Two dead boys got up to fight Back to back they faced each other, Drew their swords and shot each other. A deaf policeman heard the noise, And came and shot the two dead boys. If you don't believe this tale is true, Ask the blind man: he saw it too.

Steve,The other Leslie wasn't Leslie Henson (?father of Nicky, husband of Gladys, uncle of Basil- I may have got the relationships mixed up but all the same thespian clan) was it?My grandfather used to do the "A for th'oss" alphabet as well!Robb Wilton (LOVE his work) used to do a lot of those "I said who" monologues with piano background.RtS (dim-bulb still flickers in to life at times)

yep...mine would have been 93 last year....lost him in '76. He had that obtuse sense of humor, and never SANG anything that I remember...just sayings & recitations.

He told us once about himself and friends disassembling a farmer's buggy one Halloween, and re-assembling it on top of the man's shed roof....then coming by next day to watch the old fellow stare...and getting hired to get it DOWN again!...said he always suspected the farmer knew who did it.

Yep....that'd be my Dad too. He'd lock in on a lot of things and never let go to the point you wanted to kill him. (Yeah, I know....) Also a big practical joke type, but they'd often be long term jokes. I mentioned it before, but he was a railroad engineman (proper term for engineer) and he and his fireman passed out pocket calendars one year to all the crews they ran into for about a week, both in Pittsburgh and Columbus. A pocket calendar was essential for doing your timetables and pay sheets......Of course these calendars were several years old and an awful lot of guys screwed their pay up and wanted to kill Dad and John. Of course they lied and said they had not been paid either..................

'spaw...my uncle was a fireman, and my dad was a Western Union lineman who rode those funny little motorized units which had to get OUT of the WAY of trains...my dad was a foreman on the gang which ran the telegraph line on the D&RG-W to the Moffat tunnel ("Dotsero cutoff") in Colorado...

One of his favorite tales was of the dustbowl, when there was a grasshopper plague so bad the motor-cars couldn't get traction to run!...

(He also related the scare of losing track of the train schedule and being alone when a train was coming...and wasn't near a siding! It usually took at least 2 men to shift the car (extendable handles)..and they preferred 4...but this time he heaved it into a ditch by himself! Took a winch to get it back on, and later he couldn't move it to explain whay he did...adreneline is wonderful stuff!

The train was standing in the station when a young man full of care, Rushing up to get aboard it, tripped, fell headlong down the stair. An old lady rushed up to him saying, "Did you miss a step, my son?" He turned to her and said, "No, lady, I hit every bloody one."

Now, girls can never change their nature. That is quite beyond their reach. If a girl is born a lemon, she can never be a peach. But the law of compensation is the one I always preach: You can always squeeze a lemon. Did ya ever try to squeeze a peach?

"Tell me, Mr tram conductor," Said a lady old and frail, "Will I be electrocuted If I step upon the rail?" "Oh no, madam, I assure you," The cheeky tram conductor said, "Unless of course you put the other On that cable overhead."

I don't remember whether it was my mother or father who recited the One bright morning, etc. I had forgotten all about it till now. Mother also used to say, "I see, said the blind man as he waved his wooden leg in a deep bass voice." She left us all 3 1/2 years ago and my Dad is still kicking at 85 last weekend. Both of them, and his mother also, loved these old nonsense verses. Maybe we should start a thread on the Little Willie jokes.

Oh, the night was dark and cloudy. The moon was shining bright. The stars were casting burning rays on the storm that raged that night. Lightning struck the cowshed and the cows all chewed their cud. Moonlight set the prairie on fire in the middle of the woods.

Oh, the barefoot boy with shoes on come a-shuffling down the street. His pants were full of pockets and his boots were full of feet. He was born when he was a baby, his grandma's pride and joy. His only sister was a girl and his brother was a boy.

He never was a triplet but he always was a twin. His legs were fastened to his knees just below his chin, And his feet were fastened to his ankles several inches from his shoulder, And when he grew up, he became a man and every day got older.

He married him a woman who quickly became his wife, For you see he could not marry her and maintain a single life. Her head was full of notions and her mouth was full of tongue. They raised a dozen children, all born when they was young.

Six boys, five girls and then another child-- They never tried to raise them right, just let them grow up wild, And late in the evening they'd send them off to bed, Not sure if they was living and they wished they all was dead.

The youngest was a baby but the oldest was one first. The good one was the bad one, but the bad one was the worst. They never knew their ages; no, they never seemed to care, 'Cause they knew they had a birthday and it came 'round once a year.

They never knew their father's age, but they always had a hunch That he was born before their time, was the oldest of the bunch, And when they died, they could not speak; their names they could not tell. The girls all went to heaven and the boys all went out west.

Variants: [Here I have copied only the verses that are different from the ones already posted or in DigiTrad. -JD]

"My husband's dead," the lady said. Her eyes were dry with tears. She put her head between her feet and stood that way for years.

As the wind was blowing bubbles, lightning shot from left to right. Everything that you could see had been hidden out of sight.

As I gazed through the oaken door, a whale went drifting by, Its six legs hanging in the air, so I kissed her goodbye.

This story has a moral, as you can plainly see: Don't mix your gin with whiskey on the deep and dark blue sea.

Jim, my brother Wilmer sang (still sings), "The Barefoot Boy With Boots On") quite near to the Asa Martin version but different in spots, and he sang it before we ever heard of Asa (grand man). Alan S., I think your poem was in our schoolbooks when I was very little (an age ago). Here's the original: Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy with cheeks of tan With thy turned-up pantaloons And thy merry whistled tunes; And thy red lips, redder still, Kissed by strawberries on the hill. In my heart I give thee joy- I was once a barefoot boy!

The train was standing at the station, when a young man full of care, Running down to reach his carriage, tripped, fell headlong down the stair. An old lady standing by said, "Did you miss a stair my son ?" He replying said "No Madam, I hit every bleedin' one."

Girls can never change their nature - it's impossible to beat. If a girl is born a lemon, then they're never be a peach. But the law of compensation is the moral that I teach. You can always squeeze a lemon, have you tried to sqeeze a peach ?

While the organ peeled potatoes Lard was rendered by the choir While the sexton wrang the dishrag Someone set the church on fire. Holy smoke the preacher shouted In the rush he lost his hair. Now his head resembles heaven! For there is no parting there.

My church has a service on the street every summer. One year it was to be followed by a picnic. There was a chafing dish sitting on a table with a paper covering, and, you guessed it, it caught fire during the service. Of course I said, "Holy smoke!" Wouldn't you? The fire was out in a few seconds. No damage done. I don't think out pastor even noticed.

I'll sing you a little ditty, it's as crazy as can be, The guy who wrote it said he'd keep it as he handed it to me; I found I couldn't use it, 'cause it was so very blue, And that's the very reason why I'm handing it to you.

It's the song the alligators sing, when comin' thro' the rye, As they serenade the elephants up in the trees so high; It's the song the iceman sings, as he shovels in the coal, And the monkeys join the chorus up around the northern pole.

It was midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight; I stepped into the drugstore to buy myself a light; The man behind the counter was a woman old and gray, Who used to peddle shoestrings on the road to Mandaly.

"Good morning, Sir," the maiden cried; her eyes were dry with tears; She stuck her head beneath her feet and stood that way for years; Her children six were orphans, except one tiny tot; Who lived in the house across the street above the vacant lot.

While the organ peeled potatoes, lard was rendered by the choir; And the sexton rung the dishrag someone set the church on fire; "Holy Smoke!" the preacher shouted and his wig flew in the air; Now his head resembles heaven, as there is no parting there.

As the cows were making cowslips, the bells were ringing wet; The bumblebees were making bumbles, smoking cigarettes; 'Twas a summer's day in winter and the rain was snowing fast, And the barefoot boy with shoes on stood sitting in the grass.

It was midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight; While the sun was shining brightly, for it had rained all the night. 'Twas a summer's day in winter, and the rain was snowing fast, As the barefoot girl with shoes on stood there sitting in the grass.

It was evening and the sunrise was just setting in the west; And the fishes in the treetops were all cuddled in their nests. As the wind was blowing bubbles, lightning shot from left to right; Everything that you could see had been hidden out of sight.

While the organ peeled potatoes, lard was rendered by the choir; When the sexton rang the dishrag, someone set the church on fire. "Holy Smokes!" the preacher shouted, as he madly tore his hair, Now his head resembles heaven, for there is no parting there.

*

You dencink? You eskink? I'm eskink if you're dencink. I'm dencink if you're eskink. So I'm eskink. So I'm dencink.

*

Spring is coming. He is? Not "He is", "It is". It is what? It is coming. What is coming? Spring is coming. He is?

Mr. Chan, the wood seller, was highly sought after for his stocks of excellent Teak, but, after hiring a new boy to help move things in his shed, he was suddenly plagued by thefts from his best stock. The only clues were smallish footprints,and the persistence of the thief. Chan had enough of this. One night, he decided to sit out by his woodshed, waiting for the thief.

Sure enough, the boy arrived. From a bag, he removed a bear skin, and covered himself with it...assuming perhaps that anyone looking would see only the silhouette of a bear sniffing about.

Chan snorted when he saw this, frightening the lad, who jumped up and ran. The wood seller gave chase, shouting, as one would expect, "Stop, boy-foot bear with teak of Chan!" "

When I was a child, my mother would often sing this when we were driving a long distance on vacation. Below is how I remember it.

As the organ peeled potatoes, Song was rendered by the choir, As the sexton rang the church bell, Someone set the church on fire, Holy Smokes!! the preacher shouted, In the rush, he lost his hair, Now his head resembles heaven, For there is no parting there.

'Twas midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight I went into a drugstore to get myself a light The man behind the counter was a woman old and gray Who used to peddle donuts on the road to Mandalay. "Good morning." she said. Her eyes were bright with tears She put her head between her feet and stood that way for years. All her children are orphans, except a tiny tot Who lives in a house across the street above a vacant lot.

While the organ peeled potatos Lard was furnished by the choir While the sexton rang the dinner bell Someone set the church on fire Holy somke the preacher shouted As his wig flew in ;the air Now his head resembles heaven For there is no parting there!

'Twas a wintry day in summer, The rain was snowing fast, When a barefoot boy with shoes on Sat standing on the grass.

While the organ peeled potatoes, Lard was rendered by the choir, While the sexton rang the dish rag, Someone set the church afire.

"Holy Smoke" the preacher shouted, And in the rush he lost his hair. Now his head resembles heaven For there is no parting there.

His death, which happened in his berth, At forty-odd befell, They went and told the sexton, And the sexton tolled the bell. From The Independent, Volume 103 (New York: Independent Corporation, Sept. 18, 1920), page 325:

It was midnight on the ocean. Not a street car was in sight; The sun was shining brightly, For it rained all day that night.

We walked along a country road In a city dry and dusty. And piling thru the awful mud Sure made our axles rusty.

We came upon a farmer's house, No dwelling could we see; The busy farmer plowed his field, An idle man was he.

'Twas a zero day in summer, The rain felt just like glass, A barefoot boy with shoes on Stood sitting in the grass.

We asked him for some water, He brought us wine instead: "Miracles will never cease," The deaf and dumb boy said.

'Twas midnight on the ocean, Not a street car was in sight, The sun and moon shone brightly, While it rained all day that night.

For in the summer snowstorm When the rain flowed just like glass, A barefoot boy with shoes on Stood sitting in the grass. From The Whitin Spindle, Volume 3 (Whitinsville, Mass.: Employees of the Whitin Machine Works, Feb. 1922), No. 7, page 11:

MIDNIGHT ON THE OCEAN

(Note:—The following is from the sub-base ballast of the Coco Colo Canal Zone. If Balboa beer does this to people, we are fortunate to be in Hawaii.)

'Twas midnight on the ocean, not a horse-car was in sight, When I stepped into the corner store to get myself a light.

The man behind the counter was a woman old and grey, Who used to sell bananas on the road to Mandalay.

She said, "Hello there, stranger"; her eyes were dry with tears, And she put her head beneath her feet and stood that way for years.

Her children were all orphans except one tiny tot, Who lived alone across the street above a vacant lot.

As we gazed out through an open door, a whale went drifting by; His legs were hanging in the air, he wore a green necktie.

The quietness of the noise was still, the evening star was dawning, A dead horse galloped up and said, "We won't get home 'til morning."

"Women and children first," he cried, as he passed his plate for more; He took his hat from off the rack and hung it on the floor:

An axe came walking through the air, the clock struck twenty-six, I turned my eyes toward the sky and saw a flock of bricks.

And they buried him in the evening when the grass was parched with dew, And he took his razor with him in case his whiskers grew. From The Modern Woodman, Volume 39 (Rock Island, Ill.: Modern Woodmen of America, Feb. 1922), Issue 2, page 38:

A LITTLE NONSENSE NOW AND THEN.

At a reception recently tendered to Hon. Joseph A. Langfit, Grand Regent of the Royal Arcanum for Pennsylvania, the meeting was entertained by the reading of the following original poem by Vice Regent W. G. Stevenson, which contains more contradictions to the column inch than any other within the writer's knowledge:

It was midnight on the ocean. Not a street car was in sight. The sun was shining brightly, And it rained all day that night.

'Twas a summer's day in winter, And the snowflakes fell like glass. A barefoot boy with shoes on Stood sitting on the grass.

'Twas evening and the rising sun Was setting in the west, And the little fishes in the trees Were huddling in their nests.

The rain was pouring down And the moon was shining bright, And everything that you could see Was hidden nut of sight.

While the organ peeled potatoes, Lard was rendered by the choir. As the sexton rang the dish rag, Someone set the church on fire.

"Holy smokes!" the preacher cried. In the rain he lost his hair. Now his head resembles heaven, For there is no parting there.

—W. G. Stevenson.

[I am skeptical of the attribution to Stevenson.--JD] From The American Flint, Volume 13 (Toledo, Ohio: American Flint Glass Workers' Union of North America, April, 1922), page 38:

"from one of the Port Jervis papers some time ago"

A RAVING RHYME

'Twas a nice day in October, Last September in July; The moon lay thick upon the ground, The mud shown in the sky.

The flowers were singing sweetly, The birds were full of bloom, So I went into the cellar To sweep an upstairs room.

The time was Tuesday morning, On Wednesday just at night; I saw a thousand miles away A house just out of sight.

The walls projected backwards, The front was round the back; It stood alone with others, The fence was whitewashed black.

It was moonlight on the ocean. Not a street car was in sight; The sun was shining brightly And it rained all day that night.

It was summer in the winter, And the rain was falling fast; A barefoot boy with shoes on Stood sitting on the grass.

It was evening and the rising Stood setting in the night; And everything that I could see, Was hidden from my sight. From Carpenter, Volume 42 (Indianapolis: United Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners of America, Sept., 1922), No. 9, page 31:

A CRAZY RECITATION.

It was midnight on the ocean, Not a street car was in sight; The sun was shining brightly, And it rained all day that night. It was evening and the rising sun was setting in the west; The fishes in the pine trees Were cuddled in their nest.

'Twas a summer day in winter, The snow was raining fast, A barefoot girl with shoes on Was sitting on the grass. The rain was pouring downward, The moon was shining bright, And everything that you could see Was hidden out of sight.

While the organ peeled potatoes, Lard was rendered by the choir; While the sexton rang the dish rag, Some one set the church on fire. "Holy smoke!" the parson shouted. And the poor guy lost his hair; Now his head is just like Heaven, For there is no parting there.

—The Kablegram.

The same poem is also printed in Mixer and Server, Volume 31 (Cincinnati: Hotel and Restaurant Employes' International Alliance and Bartenders' International League of America, Nov. 15, 1922), Number 11, page 51.

Oh my gosh!!! My Grandma taught this to me when i was young!!! I recite it to my children now ive always wondered if i had it even close THANK YOU!!!

Twas a sweet day in September, Last October in July; The sun lay thick upon the ground, The mud shown in the sky.

The flowers were singing sweetly, The birds were full of bloom, As I went into the cellar To sweep an upstairs room.

The time was Tuesday morning, On Wednesday just at night; I saw a thousand miles away A house just out of sight.

The walls projected backwards, The front was round the back; As I stood alone with others, The fence was whitewashed black.

She used to also sing: As the organist peeled bananas Lard was rendered by the choir While the sexton rang the dishrag Some one set the church on fire. HOLY SMOKES the preacher shouted! As his wig flew in the air Now his head resembles heaven -for there is no parting there.

When the organ "pealed" bananas Lard was rendered by the choir. When the sexton rang the disrag someone set the church on fire. Holy Smoke, the preacher shouted, In this rush he lost his hair. Now his head resembles heaven. For there is no parting there.

As the organ peeled bananas Lard was rendered by the chior As the sextant wrang his dish towel Someone set the church on fire Holy smoke, the preacher shouted In the rush, he lost his hair Now his head reseambles heaven For there is no parting there!

While the organ peeled potatoes, Lard was rendered by the choir. While the sexton tolled the church bell, someone set the church on fire Holy smoke, the preacher shouted. In the rush he lost his hair. Now his head will be like heaven, for there is no parting there.

I remember this from an old Cherry Ames book, may not be word for word:

The organ peeled potatoes Lard was rendered by the choir; The sexton wrung the dishrag, Someone set the church on fire!

"Holy Smoke" the preacher shouted, In the fire he lost his hair. Now his head resembles heaven, For there is no parting there.

Cherry Ames was a series for teen-age girls, about a girl going through nursing school, and her adventures after. Each book was about a different sort of nursing. My aunt gave me 7 of the first 8 of the series, and I filled in and added for a while. I'll guess they were originally from the '40s, along with Nancy Drew.